


Friendship, Four Ways: It's a Challenge

by BardicRaven



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Challenges, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-21 04:24:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12449622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardicRaven/pseuds/BardicRaven
Summary: Friendship isn't easy at the best of times. Throw in all the differences and it's a challenge.





	1. Way the First: Modelling a Challenge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neverminetohold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/gifts).



Odo hurried down the Promenade towards Garak's tailor shop, mentally ticking off all the possible reasons for the urgent call he'd received a few moments ago.

Garak, as often the case, was calm, almost taciturn in his request for Odo's presence, but underneath, Odo could hear the fear, the unease, in Garak's voice.

As Odo passed the various shops and people of the Promenade, he detected no other signs of overt distress - or at least not that couldn't be explained away by the everyday ups and downs of solid life. Certainly nothing big enough to warrant his attention.

So what was it then? Garak was no weakling, for all the meek-and-mild of his mask. For most things, he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself – and did, with a ruthlessness that kept Odo with a wary eye on his doings, just in case he ever crossed a line that Odo needed to know about. 

Odo arrived at the shop and his confusion and irritation increased at the sight of a perfectly composed Garak fussing with perfectly tailored clothing in a perfectly normal shop.

“What is it, Garak?” Odo snapped. “It’s a violation of the law to summon security when there is no threat.”

“Ah, but there is!” Garak spoke with his customary charm. “There is a threat to my reputation.”

“Oh?” Odo said in a voice that could have desiccated water.

“Yes,” Garak continued, unruffled. “The Galaxian ambassador stopped by today, wanting a ceremonial garment for the upcoming talks with Bajor. You know how they can be – the slightest stitch wrong and it’s seen as a sign of the Gods that the talks are ill-omened and cannot be allowed to happen.”

“Yes,” Odo acknowledged suspiciously. “Where do I come in?”

“You’re a shape-shifter,” Garak said in a tone conveying that he thought the matter obvious and was rather surprised that Odo did not think the same.

“Yes. So?”

“So. I need a model,” Garak replied briskly. “One that can be the precise size and shape of the Ambassador.”

“And I would want to do this because?”

“Because, Constable, Galaxia will be speaking with the Federation later this year. And a bit of foreknowledge could go a long way in ensuring that the Federation gets what it wants out of those talks, wouldn’t you say?” Odo suddenly thought of an old Earth phrase – butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. He’d never really understood it before, but he did now. The smug satisfaction in Garak’s tone was both warranted and completely annoying.

“The Ambassador will be coming by for several fittings before the event.” Garak fell quiet, letting the silence convey the rest of his meaning.

“I see.” Odo paused. “Yes, I can see where that would be useful. Thank you, Garak. But...” and Odo seemed a bit embarrassed. “I’m not sure I can be as precise as you require. My mass stay7s the same, no matter my form, you see.”

Garak extended a friendly arm and started walking towards the front of the shop. “I’ve no doubt that you will achieve you customary standards of excellence.”

As they got to the doorway of the shop, Garak turned and looked up, “Besides, Constable, I know how much you enjoy a challenge. Good day, and I’ll see you tomorrow morning for the first fitting. Don’t be late.”

As Odo strode away, he thought fondly of all the things he could be to prove to Garak that yes, he could indeed satisfy the task that had been presented to him. 

It was indeed a challenge, and a challenge that he would ensure he was up to.

He made his way swiftly back to his office, told his deputies he’d not be available except for emergencies, and closed the door.

He had practicing to do.


	2. Way the Second: A Wired Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life may be a challenge, but it's always worth living.

It had indeed been a challenge he’d overcome, and in doing so, found another source of valuable information. Being invited to be the model for several other garments whose owners-to-be had strategic importance had led to several breakthroughs in both inter- and intra-Federation diplomacy.

But now, this opportunity was threatened. The wire had had an offspring, apparently, one that no-one knew about, even Garak, and while it had taken longer to fail, fail it had, and now once more, Garak was lying in the infirmary, in pain and, according to Odo’s sources, strongly thinking of giving up.

For that reason, and others that Odo wasn’t sure he cared to define, complicated and untidy as they were, he found himself hurrying towards the infirmary after he’d heard the news that Garak was thinking of surrendering to the pain.

When he arrived, Odo strode into the room, a quick glance around, assessing, as he did from long habit. He saw Bashir standing there, hovering solicitously and impotently at Garak’s bedside, and found that he did not want an audience for what he was about to say.

“Doctor,” he said in a tone that would not be denied, “I need to speak with Garak… alone,” he added to the look on Bashir’s face, the one that said that he didn’t need to leave in order for that to happen.

Julian hesitated, clearly torn between a doctor’s duty and a friend’s loyalty, when a bone-weary voice came from the bed. “It’s all right, Doctor. It’s the Constable. I’m sure I have nothing to fear.”

Julian’s lips compressed in a line that said he wasn’t one bit happy about it, but walked out, every line of his body showing his reluctance to do so.

Once the doors had swished shut behind him, Garak turned his head to Odo, doing his utmost to keep the rest of him as still as possible. “So, Constable, what is so important that you came here to tell me? If it’s a break-in at the shop, I assure you, I don’t care.”

“No,” came the slightly gravelly reply that was Odo’s normal voice. “It’s not about the shop.”

“Then what? I hate to disappoint you, but I am afraid that I’m not up for casual conversation.”

“It’s not that, either.” came the slightly-impatient reply. Before Garak could ask ‘Then what?” again, Odo continued. “It’s… that, I know, a little, of what you’re going through.” To the expression of disbelief that came through the pain, Odo replied. “No, I was not implanted with devices from the Obsidian Order. But, I change, completely, every eighteen hours. I lose my form, my substance. I am completely unmade.” His voice grew hesitant, almost ashamed. “I cannot control it. The need for it. The form of it. I can only go through it.”

“And your point, Constable?” The weariness grew sharper, more impatient.

“That I know the uncertainty of what you’re going through. You’re wondering if you can make through the pain. You’re wondering if you can bear to remake yourself again.”Another pause, longer this time. “You’re wondering if you want to even try.”

Garak’s body had become even more still, if that were possible, and Odo knew that his words had struck home.

“As I said, I go through a form of this every day when I have to transform. I came to tell you that yes, you can do this. And yes, it’s worth the pain, the uncertainty. Because you can do this. You will do this.”

“Why?” The bitterness dripped like acid. “So you can keep your information-source?”

“No. For yourself. Because, deep down, you want it.” At Garak’s look of impatient non-understanding, “Life. Even here.”

“Are you certain, Constable?” Garak said, the weariness back. “Because right now, I’m not convinced.”

Odo hesitated, choosing and discarding words to find the right ones for this moment. Finally, “I am certain for myself. It is both wearying and painful, but it is worth it.” A pause. “For you… that’s up to you.” Another pause. “But I hope so.”

He turned to go, hesitated, then turned back. “One more thing...”

“Yes, Constable?” Garak’s voice clearly wondering what other impossible thing Odo was planning on asking.

“Consider it a challenge.” And with a small half-smile on his face, Odo walked out of the room.

“Oh, I will, Constable. I will,” Garak called after him. And, for the first time, it felt like a challenge that could be won.

That it would be desirable to win.

“Good,” came the voice in return. Breakfast isn’t the same without you.”

As Odo’s footsteps retreated into the distance, Garak reflected on this strange, complicated, often annoying and yet strangely liberating thing called friendship.

It was a challenge, all right.

And a challenge that he could, and would, win.


	3. Way the Third: A Luncheon Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, in a New York minute, the gulf can seem too wide.

Afterward, Julian could not have said what started it.

They were at lunch, at the Replimat, celebrating Garak’s recovery from that second, well-hidden wire, conversation back and forth as it always was, Garak making small and not-so-small digs at humanity and Julian giving back as good as he got.

An ordinary luncheon on an ordinary day.

Until suddenly, it wasn’t.

Until suddenly, the words were too sharp, the silences too pointed.

And, not for the first time, Julian Bashir wondered if the challenge of this friendship was worth it.

If it was worth trying to befriend someone who was only sort of, sometimes, willing to be one in return.

Someone whose exterior armor was exceeded only by the armor around himself.

Someon3e so very alien – not just in his body, but the way he moved, thought, acted, spoke. 

Julian wondered, again not for the first time, just what he truly meant to Garak.

Was he really a friend? Or was he simply more of a sparring partner and acquaintance of convenience?

Did the Cardassians even have the concept of friendship in their worldview? Sometimes, times like now, for instance, Julian wasn’t so sure.

A small motion out of the corner of his eye, and Julian came back to himself to see Garak looking at him measuredly. In moments like this, the gulf between them seemed especially wide, Garak so alien, impossible to reach.

Silent stares, two sets of eyes, with a seemingly unbridgeable chasm in-between. 

Then, “I’m sorry, Doctor. In my enthusiasm, I overspoke. Please forgive me.”

And in that moment, Julian remembered why he was friends with Garak. Despite the differences – of species, of worldview, of simple personality.

It was a challenge to be friends with someone so different from yourself. That was certainly true. But what was also true what that the chance to be friends with someone like Garak, to know someone so interesting, with such an/unusual way of looking at the world and such a unique life experience, made it all worth it.

And made it, if not easy, at least possible to say the words in return, “I’m sorry as well. I too, let my enthusiasm get the better of me.”

And like that the bridge was recreated, the gulf not gone, but overcome, for one more moment, one more day, one more choice.

With that, the conversation, the meal, and the friendship, all went on.

A challenge. And worth it.


	4. Way the Fourth: A Breakfast Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why do aliens choose to become friends? And more than friends?

“Why is it, do you suppose,” Garak took a moment to take a bite of his breakfast. “That we enjoy spending so much time with humans?”

“I don’t know,” Odo replied, “But we do.”

“Yes. And sometimes, that time leads to something more than simple friendship.” Garak’s expression didn't change a bit, but still Odo felt oddly threatened.

“You leave Nerys out of this,” he snapped.

“Who’s talking about Nerys?” Garak stopped eating, his eye ridges giving him a look of bemused innocence. “She’s no more human than we are.”

Odo grunted and looked away. “But while we’re on the subject of our lovely Bajoran, I am curious as to how someone can choose to be attracted to someone so different from themselves.”

“I didn’t choose,” Odo growled. “It happened.” A pause, while Garak took another bite of food. “And you? Did you choose your friendship with Doctor Bashir?”

“Not really,” Garak replied and Odo noticed the odd lack of certainty in Garak’s words. The (allegedly) former spy was nothing if not precise in his speech, whether his words were chosen for information or misdirection.

Not that he’d blame Garak if his choice of the Doctor for a friend had been for reasons other than pure altruism.

Much like himself, Garak was the only one of his kind on the station, a vulnerable position, no matter your strengths.

So choosing as a friend someone in a position to help you was understandable.

“He was there. I was there.” Garak shrugged. “It was… convenient. And then it became pleasurable.”

“I know what you mean.”

And with that, the breakfast went on, a thing that had itself grown pleasurable to the two of them.

Friendship, in all its forms, was a strange, and welcome, challenge.


	5. Afterward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts on things - like challenges and friendships and three exiles making a go of friendship

Then there is the story of the exile who was a good tailor, a good spy, a good patriot, and yet... and yet... and yet. A good friend to those who were exiled with him, despite the way that a part of him told him that he was not being a good spy nor a good patriot to be so.

The exile who returned home to a daylight of a dying world. His to rebuild - what he could of it. What use was his training now? What use was all the years of torment in a too-cold station, the only one-of-his-kind, spat-upon and looked at with suspicion by all - even those who were ostensibly his kin-by-species.

Then the golden exile - sent far from home to learn of the world, only to be forced to choose between those he'd learned to care for and those who were like him. Endlessly mutable and yet forever unchanging.

Finally, the human, also set apart, tho' harder to notice. Artificially augmented and those forbidden, he learned to weave his way through the world nonetheless.

Their friendships are indeed a challenge, but a challenge that they freely accepted and move forward with.

Purr-haps something for us to take a lesson from.

In these times especially.

For what is fiction for if not to explore other possibilities, see what other worlds might look like?

What indeed.

Fandom-Growing YuleGoat


End file.
